


So Quite New

by LuvEwan



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, Graphic Sex, M/M, Qui-Gon Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 13:16:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuvEwan/pseuds/LuvEwan
Summary: Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan spent more than a decade as Master and apprentice. Now they are lovers, but the transition is not easy, or without obstacles.





	So Quite New

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tohje](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tohje/gifts).

> This was written for the lovely, supremely talented and wonderful Tohje. Thank you for your friendship. It is a better gift than anything I could write for you. <3
> 
> Many thanks to outpastthemoat for taking the time to look this over.

i like my body when it is with your  
body. It is so quite new a thing.  
Muscles better and nerves more.  
i like your body. i like what it does,  
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine  
of your body and its bones, and the trembling  
-firm-smooth ness and which i will  
again and again and again  
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,  
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz  
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes  
over parting flesh ... And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new. -e.e. cummings 

———

Wasn’t it like falling into water, turning into water, bones melting and every part of him becoming cool velvet water. He was tired, his last mission flotsam gathering on his mind’s surface. Pieces of _I failed_ and _I could have done this, why did I not try that_. But every stroke of hands cut through the thoughts, made them smaller, until they floated further and further away.

The bed was a raft, Qui-Gon the water. Obi-Wan spread out on the raft, and let the water carry him where it would. 

He could let go of his mistakes. No one was perfect. Least of all an early-days Knight, still learning how to be alone, and follow the Force in his own way. How many times on that doomed assignment had Obi-Wan’s thoughts drifted to Qui-Gon’s lessons, his voice, the gentle scrape of his blunt fingers? It turned out the walls sheltering his heart were not seamless. 

One crack, and water came rushing through. He was filled. 

Obi-Wan moaned, grasping at blankets. Such an overwhelming pressure, but he wound his legs around Qui-Gon, pulling him in more. He marveled how the other man could encompass him, long hair cascading around them as he leaned down to kiss Obi-Wan slowly, deeply. 

Something was always too tender about their kisses. It was during their very first encounter that Obi-Wan realized he was not seeking the uncomplicated release of a tryst. He had already loved Qui-Gon before he ever touched him, and that love left the new Knight vulnerable: to falling, to drowning. So he would occasionally use missions to come up for air. He could be himself, he insisted, without Qui-Gon Jinn. 

Except he did not feel like himself without Qui-Gon Jinn. He loved sleeping beside him in cool, moonlit rooms. He loved those hands gripping his hips. 

And the mouth trailing down his jaw, his neck. Qui-Gon thrust twice more, then slid out completely. Obi-Wan bit into his bottom lip and shuddered at the abrupt loss. They could do this for hours, and did, when there was time. 

But time was like water, too, so often running between their fingers. 

Qui-Gon’s forehead gleamed with sweat. A drop fell on Obi-Wan’s chest, but Qui-Gon ran his finger through it before Obi-Wan could react, dragging over a nipple, across quivering muscle. 

He could not help but gasp, both at the sensation and the half-second of pain; his skin still covered in the fading ghosts of blue bruises. 

“These missions…” Qui-Gon murmured. He did not approve of the assignments Obi-Wan was given by the Council. 

Obi-Wan stroked his hand down the strong back. They had spoken about the source of that frustration before, though never, Obi-Wan suspected, to Qui-Gon’s satisfaction. Obi-Wan himself could admit to a niggling disquiet in the back of his head. He had not been a Padawan for three years. His missions were challenging, harrowing, but nothing he couldn’t handle. 

Qui-Gon caressed his hips and then took Obi-Wan’s cock into his mouth, teasing the ridges with his tongue. 

“_Ahhhh_,” Obi-Wan managed a broken, undignified cry before melting back onto the bed and throwing his arm over his eyes. He heard wet sucking noises; even after all these months, all their couplings, Obi-Wan experienced a moment of disbelief that it was Qui-Gon holding his thighs apart, Qui-Gon’s lips working his cock.

He spread his legs further, enjoying the added tension in his muscles. 

More slow, intense suction. He resisted the instinct to writhe or shout, because he was a Knight, and their privacy here in Qui-Gon’s quarters in the Temple was only as good as their control and shielding and—-

“Oh…_gods_…” A squeeze around his balls sent Obi-Wan’s eyes rolling to the back of his head. Qui-Gon continued to suck his cock. It was nearly too much. He wanted to fuck into the warmth and let go. “Oh that...yes…”

Qui-Gon pulled up, beard gleaming. His eyes were dark blue, a color Obi-Wan had never seen in other eyes, the color of deep water. 

Obi-Wan knew what a lewd picture he made, naked and utterly exposed, and some part of him, the Proper Jedi, was a bit appalled. But not enough to stop Qui-Gon from crawling on top of him. The huge, weeping erection left a trail across Obi-Wan’s stomach. _Filthy_, the word left another trail across Obi-Wan’s thoughts, but a sweet kind of comfortability existed there too, by allowing Qui-Gon to mark his body in such a primal way. 

A thrill of unbecoming excitement. His cock jerked and grew harder. 

Qui-Gon leaned over him. His hair was damp, and a few strands clung to his neck. “Filthy?” He whispered in Obi-Wan’s ear, before circling the shell with his tongue. “Is that what you think?”

Obi-Wan shivered, feeling every hair stand up on his bare skin. They had always shared a closer connection than most teams, able to send emotions and even the occasional message through the Force. Their evolving relationship strengthened the foundation of that bridge. Sometimes he could not sense a separation between them. A Proper Jedi would be concerned.

“I think,” Obi-Wan ran his finger along the moist lips, relishing the slight tickle of Qui-Gon’s beard. “there are worse things than filthy.” 

Qui-Gon exhaled on a chuckle. “And what would that be?”

Obi-Wan gazed up at his lover. Behind Qui-Gon, Coruscant blinked and swerved in a neon version of midnight. He had worried about leaving the blinds up, acutely aware of how they could be discovered. But the frantic lights were filtered through the window, softer. He could even catch glimpses of the moon. No one was watching. “Empty.” He finally answered, meeting Qui-Gon’s eyes, and undulating his hips. 

Qui-Gon kissed him, humming desire into his mouth, vibrating his teeth. “You…” his hand wandered between Obi-Wan’s legs, finding and pressing into the oiled entrance with one long finger, “should never be empty.”

One finger became two, and then Obi-Wan was filled, his body stretching around the hot girth of Qui-Gon’s cock. Qui-Gon moved slowly, sliding in but never quite out, their sweat-slick chests rubbing together. 

Obi-Wan knew when to clench around Qui-Gon, when to moan and when to lay back and take the thrusts. He also knew when he needed to retreat from the mindless pleasure, right at the brink of climax. He was a young man, and not as experienced as Qui-Gon. His body was impatient for release.

“Not yet,” Qui-Gon mumbled huskily against his neck. 

Obi-Wan very nearly said _yes, Master_, but caught himself. His ears burned, reminded of those embarrassing slip-ups in the recent past. When Qui-Gon had first brought him to orgasm, months ago, Obi-Wan called out the man’s title, rather than his name. 

The same title Obi-Wan called him for the twelve years of his apprenticeship. 

_“It’s only natural,_” Qui-Gon had assured him, “_we have been many things to each other_.” 

But that too had felt like an echo of another time, a lesson imparted from Master to Padawan. Of course they could never erase the past, nor would Obi-Wan want to. He cherished his training, and was endlessly grateful for Qui-Gon’s tutelage. He just liked...a division between old and new roles. 

Qui-Gon chose that moment to shift into a sitting position, bringing Obi-Wan with him, settling him in his lap with his cock still firmly seated. He used Obi-Wan’s hips to set a bouncing rhythm. 

Obi-Wan rose and fell on the cock, quickening his pace. He felt the strength coursing through Qui-Gon; he was aroused by how easily the older Jedi could move him, by the sheer size and hard lines of his body. He fantasized about that body overpowering him long before he was Knighted. He had been ashamed of his desires, and tried unsuccessfully to meditate those strange urges out of his mind. 

Now they were equals, and he was not ashamed. He was beginning to trust himself in the Force. His instincts had saved his life countless times so far in his Knighthood, and those same instincts brought him closer to Qui-Gon. 

Closer. Closest. 

Obi-Wan ground down on Qui-Gon’s erection, burying his face in a broad shoulder. The room smelled of sex. Anyone could walk in and—-_ahhhh_. He lightly bit the shoulder as he rode through a particularly intense wave. “Force,” He rasped, every part of him caught between pleasure and renewed pain. He had failed his mission, been injured in the process, and was not exactly healed from the experience in any sense. He focused on the sensations Qui-Gon was creating, the fullness and shock of landing on the hard cock, the too-good spark when Qui-Gon massaged his balls. 

“Mmmph,” Obi-Wan’s back began to protest sharply, but he had not had this in weeks, had wanted nothing else—

Qui-Gon paused. His voice was ragged from their shared exertion. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. Keep going,” Obi-Wan replaced the hesitant hands on his hips, digging them into his skin. “You know I can take it.”

Qui-Gon growled. He stood, taking Obi-Wan with him, their bodies remaining joined. Obi-Wan brought his legs around Qui-Gon’s waist. He felt fingers grab his ass, moving him up and down the cock. Obi-Wan clung to Qui-Gon’s shoulders and threw his head back. 

“You take it...so good…” Qui-Gon grunted, the glow of the city lights playing across his face. 

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. Each thrust ignited a spark of pain. But he wanted, _gods_ he wanted—

Qui-Gon carried him towards the window, pressing him against the wall there. He brushed aside the hair that had fallen in Obi-Wan’s eyes. “So so good…” he whispered, pushing as far inside as he could go. He studied Obi-Wan’s lips before slowly and thoroughly claiming them. 

The man’s desire was a rising flame in the Force. No shields now, no restraint. 

Obi-Wan was knocked into the wall by a thrust. Stars exploded behind his eyes. He moaned a little between his clenched teeth. _Blast it blast it blast it_. A spasm seized his lower back and his legs involuntarily dropped. He started sliding down when Qui-Gon caught him around the waist. 

“I’m...I’m alright,” he said tightly. 

Qui-Gon led him to the bed and helped Obi-Wan recline on his side. He waved on a low light, standing naked with all the presence—and intimidation—of a Jedi Master in full uniform and robes. He gingerly touched the inflamed skin around Obi-Wan’s spine and hissed. “I suppose you came directly here, rather than the infirmary?” 

Of course, he already knew the answer. He only asked so that Obi-Wan would admit to his mistake. Obi-Wan bristled, tucking an arm under his head. The pain was receding behind a flare of annoyance. “I visited the infirmary on Laazrau.” 

Qui-Gon withdrew his hand. He had not expended any healing energies. His chest was slick with sweat, but his erection had faded, cock quiescent in the wiry nest of dark pubic hair. “And I suppose the healers there didn’t give you any instructions about physical rest while you recovered?”

Obi-Wan inhaled through his nose carefully, looking out the window. “I am fine. I’ve endured worse than a back ache. And I was…” he swallowed with a deliberate click, releasing his disappointment at the forfeited orgasm, “enjoying myself.”

The other man snorted. “Forgive me if I don’t enjoy causing you pain.”

Obi-Wan snatched a sheet to cover himself. “Forgive me if I know my own limits. And my own desires.”

Qui-Gon stood by the window, the light tracing the lines of his tall body. If Obi-Wan was not offended, he would be aroused by the sight. “I know your desires. I dare say they match mine.” He glanced over at Obi-Wan and smiled, “Quite well, usually. I was...anxious for your return.”

Obi-Wan’s cock stirred. He had spent desperate nights on Laazrau starved for a touch still new to him. “I thought of you very often.” He admitted. “More, when things went careening south.”

Qui-Gon turned to gaze at the skyscrapers and passing air cars. He sighed. “That worries me, Obi-Wan. Your focus--”

“Belongs in the here and now,” Obi-Wan finished for him. He felt the tension uncoiling from his back, enough for him to sit up. He curbed a grimace, determined not to further prove Qui-Gon’s point. He plucked at loose threads on the well-worn sheet. These quarters were somewhere he rarely visited as a Padawan, and even then, he remained in the small living area. He might have passed over the threshold to this room once or twice during his entire apprenticeship. 

He harbored a fear that Qui-Gon would revoke Obi-Wan’s permission to be here at all. And that was a problem. Obi-Wan crossed the floor to stand beside Qui-Gon. He brushed his fingers along a warm bicep. 

“But I’m here, with you, in the now.”

Qui-Gon caught his hand, caressing the palm as he spoke. “For which I am exceedingly grateful. I release my worries to the Force and yet...I worry.” His touch drifted to Obi-Wan’s stomach, where the Sith’s blade had left a faded, puckered scar. “You are young for these missions. Not so long ago, I wasn’t sure--” he dropped his head, and wiped at his wet brow. 

“The here and now,” Obi-Wan said softly. “I did not die, Qui-Gon. I try my best not to die every day.” He added with a smirk, but sobered when he realized Qui-Gon looked unamused. His jaw tightened. He supposed there was no good time for awkward conversations, but he would not have chosen to broach this particular topic while naked, in the near dark, thirsty from lovemaking. “If I am old enough to share your bed, surely I am old enough for solo missions. I passed the trials,” he hesitated, “I killed a Sith. The Council does not share your lack of confidence.”

“It is never a matter of confidence, Obi-Wan. You are highly skilled. Already you’ve earned the reputation of a formidable Knight in this Order. I am well aware that our safety as Jedi is never guaranteed.” Qui-Gon stroked the side of Obi-Wan’s cheek with his thumb. “But I disagree with the Council in many situations. They _know_ you are exceptional. I feel you are given missions most green Knights would not be expected to tackle on their own.”

Obi-Wan breathed evenly, considering his words. “Qui-Gon, I am proud, more than proud, to have been your student. But it is my place to decide if I can handle my own assignments. And you have your own Padawan to worry about.”

Qui-Gon’s hand slipped away. “I do not see you that way.” 

“Sometimes I wonder.” Obi-Wan blurted, then immediately regretted his candor. Heat twisted in his gut. But he stood his ground, chin lifted, retaining as much dignity as he could. “This...what we have between us...it was unexpected. We did not plan it. And now, it seems we are discovering the consequences.”

“Yes,” Qui-Gon half-whispered. He reached for Obi-Wan, and folded him against his bare chest. They stood together by the window for several quiet minutes. “if you ever change your mind--”

Obi-Wan took the bearded face between his hands. “I won’t. I couldn’t.” He smiled, wading into blue eyes. “I apologize. I’m tired. We will sort it out.”

\-------


End file.
